(106) Hands Are Cold

“Thank you very much for gathering,” Frankton Toplage said, gesturing grandly to the small crowd assembled before him.

“It has been a trying few weeks for us all, I know. We have fought long and hard, and the fight has not ended.”

He stood with his hands behind his back, making eye contact with several of the assemblage before continuing.

“However, we have been blessed with an unexpected edge this day,” he declared, motioning toward the back of the room.

The door opened, and Larelle entered with her hands clasped behind her back, her head held high. Ellie followed on her heels, the picture of poise.

“Miss Donblatt, survivor and now leader of the Donblatt family, has seen reason. She has pledged the Donblatt family and its resources to the Toplage for peace and mutual benefit!” Frankton declared grandly.

The small crowd of Toplages murmured among each other, most clearly unsold.

“I see the doubt in your eyes. It is warranted. I, too, was dubious. Yet there is a critical piece of information which convinced me of both the sincerity and logic of the Donblatts’ plan,” he said, smiling conspiratorially, enjoying the stage.

“An army marches on Promise City, an army from Sardvend, led by the archduke himself!”

Gasps and exclamations spread through the crowd, and Frankton positively glowed, basking in the attention and drama.

“Indeed! So, our plan becomes thus: the Donblatt family takes over Taolu operations within Promise City,” he declared, pausing to savor the sudden silence, many of his family displeased by the revelation.

“And we, the Toplages, will be the Taolu representatives for all of Radaar!”

He threw his hands wide, looking up at the sky, absorbing the enthusiastic whispers from his gathered family and branch family members.

“Gather your things. Garb yourself in your finest. The Toplages go to welcome the archduke and to escort his glorious army through the gates personally. 

“The Donblatts will remain behind, dealing with the…miscreants still squabbling over territory. The archduke and Taolu will require a stable city to be welcomed,” he said, nodding toward Larelle, who returned the gesture.

“Now, go! We leave at dawn. A new era of prosperity begins, and the Toplages will be its heralds!”

The members filed out, chatting excitedly. Frankton watched them leave, waiting until they had fully vacated before turning to address Larelle. She now stood before the mantle of an unlit fireplace.

“Still, I am surprised by this sudden change of heart. I would be lying if I said I was not skeptical, even now. That my sources were able to confirm your claim about the archduke’s army is a good sign, but I am afraid I must still probe your personal motivations for this about-face,” he said, an eyebrow raised.

Larelle was silent for a moment, seemingly gathering her thoughts as she gazed upon the cold andiron.

“An army from Sardvend now marches toward the city. Should they arrive and find chaos, there will be a great purge. The Marquisate has rebelled. It matters not who the rebels are, nor who was or was not involved. Sardvend will be looking to make an example, and powerful families fighting over control will be ideal targets.

“My father is dead. My brothers are missing. My family is falling apart. We have already lost so much. Our only hope now is to join forces with former enemies in the face of a greater threat. If it is all that is required of me to preserve my remaining family, scrapes on my knees are a small price,” she explained.

She turned around, staring Frankton in the eyes.

“My choices were to continue fighting over this city, only to be purged by Sardvend, should we even survive that long, or to make allies of enemies. At the end of the day, what we want is control of the city. What difference is there whether that comes as a vassal of Sardvend or of the Toplage family?”

Frankton smiled, a small and innocuous thing, but it seemed filthy, unclean.

“That is quite forward-thinking of you. I am pleased to see that the apple has fallen far from the tree. Your father, may he rest in peace, would not have seen things so lucidly. 

“I am also pleased to hear that you recognize your family’s position in this arrangement. As long as we are clear on that matter, our future dealings will be prosperous,’ he said.

Larelle and Ellie had little more to say, and it was clear that though they were now ostensibly allies, Frankton did not particularly enjoy their presence. They left the Toplage estate promptly, watched every step of the way by both obvious and hidden guards.

They exited the front gate and made their way through the city, which bustled even in the dark of night, oblivious to the undercurrents of violence and subterfuge that controlled it.

As they moved, Larelle watched the alleys and side streets, sometimes nodding or signaling to cloaked and hooded figures, who vanished into the shadows once flagged.

“Do you disapprove of my methods?” Larelle suddenly asked, having just signaled a tall man draped in black.

“Ma’at will not deal with Taolu, but neither will it judge what one does to leave the company,” Ellie replied, walking with her hands clasped before her. “Nor would I personally judge you for craving revenge.”

Larelle glanced back to meet Ellie’s eyes, staring for a brief moment before resuming her pace.

“It is unclear who is responsible for my father’s death,” she said.

“Indeed,” Ellie replied.

“My only concern is uprooting the remaining Taolu from this city,” Larelle declared.

“Of course,” Ellie responded.

——————————————

Tara sat with her back against the cold wall, sighing. Glancing over, she was frustrated to find Redra sleeping like the dead. She was curled up in some thick blanket of fur, sleeping so deeply that Tara was surprised she was not snoring.

The woman had peppered Tara with questions for hours after Beth had taken her leave. Though they did not come all at once, nor did she ask the same question twice, she was incessant. Even after the others, the boys and Wynn, had fallen fast asleep, Redra would pelt her with inquiries.

With another sigh, Tara rose to her feet. One thing she was sure of was that trying to fall asleep was the worst way to accomplish it. She could blame Redra all she wanted, but Redra was now asleep herself, and yet rest still alluded Tara.

She wandered over toward the wall she had seen Beth exit through and scanned it with her mana sight. Having a problem to ponder was often a good way to invite sleep, so she thought she might find a way to open the passage as Beth had.

“Pretty sure she said to stay here,” Esme suddenly said, startling Tara into a small jump.

“I’m just looking,” she replied defensively.

Esme just snorted, closing her eyes once again. She sat against the wall next to Redra, her arms crossed. Tara was unsurprised that she was not actually sleeping. She had a feeling Esme had not slept at all the previous night, either.

Tara studied the wall for several minutes, yet she could see no workings of mana within: no etchings of enchantments, nor any mana flowing in or around it. By every metric she could measure, it was simply a stone wall.

She ran her hands over the wall, finding nothing of note save that it was cold and smooth…just like stone. She pressed her face against it, inhaling, as if she might smell the magic out, yet all she received was a nose full of dust. She stepped back, shaking her head, exhaling forcefully, attempting to resist the urge to sneeze, when the wall suddenly slid to the side.

Tara stood transfixed. Had she done that? Surely not. All she did was sniff the thing.

“Seems you’re invited,” Esme mused. “Take care, kid. We’re travelin’ together, but protecting you ain’t my job.”

Tara scoffed and entered the darkness beyond. As soon as her back foot was through, the wall slid back into place silently. She watched it move, still neither seeing nor feeling any magic in its motion.

“You can watch, but you will not find anything. Its operation is beyond you, right this moment,” Beth observed.

Tara, thankfully, resisted the instinct to jump in surprise, managing to parlay the motion into simply spinning around.

Blue eyes glowed in the dark, and they were all Tara could see for a moment, as if they were so bright they were hiding their surroundings in shadow. After only moments, Tara’s eyes adjusted, and she beheld Beth leaning her back against the wall of a narrow hallway without any doors. Her arms were crossed, and she watched Tara.

“The magic that moves them is pretty advanced, then?” Tara asked.

“It is not magic that moves them, not anymore,” Beth replied cryptically.

“I…see. Thanks for clearing that up, I guess,” Tara said.

The two stared at each other in silence for several long, awkward moments before Tara could handle it no longer.

“Thanks for inviting me in.”

“As long as you go no further, I have no issue with your presence here,” Beth explained.

Another awkward silence descended. Tara wracked her brain to find a conversation topic, but she could not summon one. Her frustration began to mount. This entire situation was unbelievably strange. She should have a million questions running through her mind!

“You are having difficulty sleeping?” Beth suddenly asked, breaking the silence.

“I…uh, yeah,” Tara replied lamely.

“What troubles your mind?”

“A lot, really…I guess primarily I’ve been thinking about what the others said,” Tara responded.

“The others? You mean their thoughts on magic? You are troubled by their insinuations about the way you cast?” Beth asked, somehow yanking the exact thread that Tara was having trouble pulling herself.

“Is free casting or wild casting or whatever really dangerous?”

“Of course it is,” Beth replied without hesitation.

Tara looked down at the ground, thinking about all the spells she had cast recently. They had felt good, much better than when she cast with the Words. It was difficult to quantify, but she felt it was the difference between watching someone do something and actually doing it yourself.

“Most things that are worth doing involve at least a little danger,” Beth said.

Tara glanced up, making eye contact once again.

“That sounds like something my master would say,” she said without thinking.

“Your master and I are very similar in some key ways,” Beth mused, glancing behind her for some reason. “We are very different in other, perhaps more important, ways, though.”

Beth rose from the wall and approached Tara.

“Neither method of casting is more correct than the other, Tara. You will find that most things in life have no easy answer, no simple yes-or-no binary. The advantages they spoke of are real. Casting with the Words’ assistance gives you repeatable, predictable spells and outcomes. There is value in that.

“However, there will never be any degree of control in that manner of casting. You will be stuck to the recipes the Words write forever. Only in learning to cast for yourself, by yourself, can you hope to advance beyond the rote, pre-made spells. Only by learning to cast magic yourself can you ever hope to make new magic,” she declared, stopping just a foot away from Tara.

Tara stared at her, her mind jumbled, thoughts clouded. She felt her lack of sleep clearly in her inability to think straight. It had been building for the past few hours, but only now, as she faced issues that required complex thinking, did she fully realize how chaotic her mind was.

“Rest easy, Tara. Your master, though we will not agree on much else, has set you on the proper path. You have nothing to worry about. Your future in magic is bright, so rest now. The young especially need to sleep properly,” Beth said, placing a finger on Tara’s forehead.

Suddenly, Tara’s mind cleared, as if the fog had been blown away by a strong wind. Yet, in its place was a void, oblivion. Her thoughts retreated with the fog, and her eyes closed, unable to resist the overwhelming urge to be swallowed by the void.

She slumped over, feeling Beth’s hands as she caught her. She had time only for a single idle observation before sleep fully claimed her.

Her hands are cold.